


Inhaling You

by SophiaThePixelGarden



Category: Free!
Genre: ??????, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Obsession, Scent Kink, honestly folks, it's just Kinda Gross ngl, just takin hiyori's protective nature to its logical extreme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26617441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaThePixelGarden/pseuds/SophiaThePixelGarden
Summary: Hiyori worships Ikuya like nobody else.
Relationships: Kirishima Ikuya/Tono Hiyori
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Inhaling You

Hiyori sits on a bench by the sidelines of the pool, his swimsuit tight and dry against his thighs. He lied about having a cold, about not being able to swim, passing a badly forged doctor’s note to his frowning coach.

Of course, it should hardly count as a lie – he’s overcome with a sickness, a need that hurts so bad, that it aches every muscle on his body.

He watches the indistinct bodies moving through the impossibly blue water of the pool. They blend into nothing; they might as well be glass, might as well be invisible. His vision is focused through the pinpoint of his phone’s camera, taking photos of his only, of his Ikuya.

He captures every flourish of his arm slicing out of the water, every moment Ikuya lifts his head to the side, desperate for a breath of air. Hiyori smiles.

He thinks about how easy it is to drown, to just stop paying attention, to lose your place in the practice of breathing, air, in, water, out. How lesser men have succumbed to such distraction, to such weakness. How they will continue to. He thinks about every other body sharing the same water as Ikuya, going past him as if he’s nothing.

Ungrateful scum.

Hiyori continues clicking the screen of his phone, focusing on Ikuya’s legs, on his arms, on the desperate O of his mouth. He thinks how strong he is, pushing forward with so, so little recognition. He thinks how much he needs to protect, to hold him up, in the same way that worshippers keep their gods strong, fanning the fire of their image.

Click, click, click.

Hiyori frowns at the motion blur, at the water foaming white, obscuring Ikuya’s perfect form. Maybe Hiyori is just not worthy enough to see all that skin in motion. Maybe he’s done something wrong – or, maybe he hasn’t done enough of the right thing.

Click, click, click – there.

Hiyori briefly lowers his phone, double tapping the screen to zoom in on the face. Somehow, through the foam, through the blue and white blue, the image is sharp. The shape of Ikuya’s face, his small nose, the droplets on his lips.

Hiyori smiles, clicking his phone shut, letting it slide into his bag before zipping it up.

♡

The sound of water gushing echoes through the showers. Ikuya is alone, or thinks he is alone, facing the shower head, watching the clean water pour through his fingers, dripping to the mould-slick tiles below. He stares at the wall, and sees faces in the stains.

“Ikuya!”

He turns over his shoulder at the sound of his name, unsurprised to see Hiyori over the door of the cubicle, his elbow resting over the edge. Ikuya nods at him.

“Good work today,” Hiyori says, grinning, leaning his weight against the cubicle door. Ikuya glances over, thinking the flimsy plaster might break with the strain. He cups water between his hands, pouring it over his face, and rubs his eyes.

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Hiyori asks. The door juts against the flimsy lock as he peers over, fingers hooked over the top, eyes briefly dipping down to Ikuya’s hips.

“I’m tired,” Ikuya replies, turning away, switching the water off. “Ah, can you--”

“Sure,” Hiyori says, handing him his towel over the door. Ikuya blinks, accepting the soft fabric. “So tonight’s no good?”

Ikuya always felt bad saying no to Hiyori – he’s always been such a good friend, all things considered.

Ikuya dries off his chest, wrapping the towel over his bare waist. “Um—”

“That’s okay.” Hiyori steps back as Ikuya opens the door, walking out of the shower to sit on one of the changeroom benches. Hiyori sits next to him, dropping his gym bag on the floor by his feet. “You worked really hard today.”

“Th-thanks,” Ikuya replies, getting a water bottle out of his bag. As he takes a drink, the cool liquid hitting his dry throat, he feels Hiyori’s gaze on him, stuck to his neck. He puts the bottle down.

When he looks back, Hiyori is rifling through his own bag, looking for something. A few moments later, he’s holding a small, white towel, grinning at Ikuya.

“What’s that for?” Ikuya asks. “You didn’t even go swimming toda—ah—”

In the next moment, Hiyori’s hands are working the towel over Ikuya’s head, fluffing his hair. Soon, his fingers are digging into his scalp, separated only by the thin fabric.

“Hey,” Ikuya pouts, his head swaying from side to side as Hiyori dries his hair. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Hiyori gives him one final fluff, taking the towel back and dropping it into his bag.

“You always forget a second towel, don’t you?”

Ikuya shrugs. “Um, I never intend to bring one in the first place.”

“Exactly,” Hiyori hums, grabbing the edge of the bench with both hands. “And now you don’t have to walk out of here with wet hair. You’re! Welcome!” he sings, his voice echoing over the changerooms.

Ikuya rolls his eyes, pulling a shirt over his head and putting on pants under his towel. He slings the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he stands up.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” Ikuya mutters, stepping into his sneakers. Hiyori watches his back as he walks out of the room, the muscles shifting under his shirt. Dark spots speckle the fabric over his right shoulder, where he hadn’t dried off all the water from the shower.

♡

Hiyori wakes up at half past two in the afternoon, tangled in the blankets of his bed.

The blinds cut the sunlight into lines. Golden stripes pour heat over his body. He groans, reaching over to his bedside table, picking up his phone to check the time. _Fuck_. This always happens when there’s no practice; when there’s no plan to see Ikuya.

He puts his phone back, pulling the fabric of his shirt away from his chest, trying to peel it away like skin. Sweat patches soak his sleeves. He wipes the back of his hand over his forehead, and it comes back wet.

He hates summer. He hates Tokyo.

On days like this, he wonders why he even bothered moving here.

He stretches his leg over the bed, nudging the window open with his heel. A cool breeze blows through the flyscreen, brushing over his legs, but it’s not enough. His body is still heavy with the humidity.

He sighs against his bedsheets, the hot breath blowing back in his face.

He rolls over to face the ceiling, rubs his hands into his eyes, letting his fingers trail down his cheeks. What a profoundly pointless day. He lets his head fall to the side, looking over his room, perfectly in order, except for the gym bag, abandoned and spilling open against his bedside table.

Sitting up on his bed, he reaches into it, pulling out the small, white towel. He brings it to his nose, inhaling the scent, and has to bite into his bottom lip to stop from letting out a moan.

It’s already been a day, meaning it’s unfortunately dry, and Hiyori feels some regret that he didn’t think to do this earlier. Still, the scent is unmistakable – the chlorine, the shampoo. He presses the soft towel against his nose, against his lips, and feels his mouth begin to water. Without thinking, he lies back against the bed.

With one hand holding the towel against his face, he hooks a thumb against the waistband of his boxers, ghosting his fingers over his waist before pressing down against his dick. He stuffs the towel like a gag into his mouth, running his tongue over the individual threads as he loosely wraps his fingers around his cock.

Moaning into the fabric, Hiyori can’t help but drool, saliva dripping out the corner of his mouth. He presses his face into the bedsheets, pushing the wetness dripping down his chin back against his skin. With one hand still stroking himself, his other starts to roam under his shirt, a thumb circling over his nipple.

All three sensations at the same time – his mouth, his chest, his dick – are almost too much to bear, and he thinks he’s about to come.

Suddenly, he stops himself, getting a better idea. He pulls his hand out from under his shirt, reaching over to pull his phone off of his bedside table.

He fumbles through his password with one hand, struggling to open the photo gallery, until it’s there, right in front of him: Ikuya, so unbelievably graceful in the water. Frozen, like a marble statue; an imitation so sharp, so real, he thinks if he reaches through the screen, he’ll feel the softness of his skin between his fingers.

Hiyori’s body works ahead of his brain, his hips lazily thrusting into his hand. He bites down into the fabric until it makes his teeth ache, he moans through it like a murder victim, he tightens his grip on himself, eyes never leaving the screen. He forces his trembling fingers to double tap the screen, zooming in on Ikuya’s perfect, little face; so at odds with his muscular body.

It really is perfect. He makes swimming look like an art. The art of drowning, or not drowning, or almost drowning.

Hiyori inhales, dizzy with the smell of chlorine.

He thinks about reaching out to touch Ikuya, about hooking a finger – just _one finger_ – over the waistband of his swimsuit, still wet from the pool.

Ikuya would look up at him with those big, wet eyes, so moody.

So innocent.

Hiyori shudders into his hand, pressing his tongue against the makeshift gag as he comes, semen seeping through to stain his underwear. Out of breath, he lets his phone fall to the carpet, bringing his hand up to his face, pulling the towel out of his mouth.

He wipes his hands clean with it. It feels good – even dripping with his saliva, now soiled with his come. It feels clean.

It feels like love.

**Author's Note:**

> i did not intend to post this ever  
> but i randomly found it in my drafts and was like,,, oh,, this is actually readable (?)  
> so, like...sorry???


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